


to win, to lose, to fall

by paperlesscrown



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Bets, Competitive!Bughead, F/M, NSFW, Plot? What Plot?, Smut, poor kevin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 09:22:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17701682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperlesscrown/pseuds/paperlesscrown
Summary: It all started, really, because Betty was loud. During sex, that is.Then it became a competition.Except everyone loses. And wins.





	to win, to lose, to fall

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by 3.12 and Betty and Jughead having their hot little makeout interrupted by the phone.
> 
> They don't get interrupted in this one. Enjoy.

It all started, really, because Betty was loud.

During sex, that is. Without fail.

One particularly amorous adventure with Jughead in the trailer had Fangs knocking frantically on the door, worried about the pair. The thuds and bangs probably didn’t help. Jughead opened the door with a smirk, the duvet wrapped around his waist. Betty was far too spent to answer the door - she lay naked and glistening on his bed, and Jughead was proud of his work. 

“You after something, dude?” Jughead asked.

“Oh. Right. Ah, no.” And with that, Fangs laughed awkwardly and ran off. 

It was the reason why they’d taken to the woods or the bunker when nothing else was available. Jughead couldn’t trust that Betty would stay silent in the supply closet he once called home, or in the _Blue and Gold_ office. And as for the Cooper household, forget it - Alice wouldn’t even let them shut the bedroom door.

“I can’t help it,” she said with a shrug, unapologetically, when he teased her about it. “Besides, it’s not like _you’re_ quiet.”

Jughead scoffed. “I can control it.”

“That’s not meant to be a challenge, Jug.”

“Make it one, then.”

Betty looked up to measure his mettle, to see if he was serious. He was. She tilted her head slowly, lifted one eyebrow in a perfect arch. “Okay, then. Sit back.”

“Now? _Here?”_

“No time like the present.”

“Betty, the movie’s about to start.”

“Well, you said you could control it, didn’t you?”

Jughead levelled a gaze at her. “Fine.”

He lay back. The theatre darkened. The moviegoers fell silent. With a start, Jughead saw Betty on her knees in front of him. Wedged between the seat and his legs, it was a tight fit, but enough. Then, he saw her hands in the dark, working to unbutton her blouse.

“Betty,” he hissed. “What the hell?! What are you doing?”

“You’re speaking, which means you’re already losing,” she whispered, before unclipping her bra and letting her breasts tumble forth and onto his lap.

 _Holy fuck._ He eyed her with a mix of fury and lust. She unbuttoned his jeans, pulled them down to his knees, and bore down her tits onto his hardened shaft. A rush of air emitted from his open mouth. He grabbed her hair for ballast, pulled on it a little too hard. He knew she didn’t mind.

“Not a sound,” she murmured.

On the screen, the opening credits of _The Godfather_ were playing (it was classic night at the Bijou). Below him, Betty licked her palm before taking hold of him, his cock squeezed between the flesh of her breasts while she jacked him up and down, making her tits jiggle on the bare skin of his thighs. He bit the inside of his cheek, forcing himself quiet while hurtling towards his inevitable end.

Jughead glanced desperately around him, trying to make a choice. Their row was empty but there were five others in the cinema - two other couples and one, lone man. He didn’t recognise any of them. Would it be so bad if he lost? If he made _some_ noise? 

_Oh, come on. Are you really gonna give up that easily?_

Besides, he _liked_ going to the Bijou. He didn’t want to get a lifetime ban. He was just gonna have to stick it out.

But then her mouth closed around him, and all bets were off. 

A muffled shout was all that the other patrons of the Bijou heard, but it was easily disguised in the din emitting from the film. 

No-one could have suspected that it came from the boy in the back with the crown beanie and the bruised ego. Or that the girl who had caused it was now smugly wiping off the streaks of white that adorned her bared breasts.

...

Jughead loved his girlfriend more than life itself. But he soon found himself plotting her demise.

He could have been _banned_ from the Bijou. He could have lost years and years of earned goodwill. This was war.

The occasion presented itself; Alice was away on the weekend, at some Farm health retreat. Something about goddess powers and activated charcoal. 

Betty had no idea what plans her boyfriend had for her as they stood together under the running water of the shower, talking about their next exposé for the _Blue and Gold,_ taking turns to wash themselves. Then, as casually as the conversation started, he gently turned her around to face the glass wall before palming her breasts in his hands.

“Mmm, this is new,” she said breathily. “What are you after, Jones?”

“Can’t a guy just feel his girlfriend up without having to give an explanation?” He smirked against her cheek, sucking at the delicate skin of her jaw. “You like this?”

“Very much so.”

“We can continue this in your room,” he said. “If you want.”

He brushed his dick up against her round, perfect ass, and she moaned to feel it, and he thrilled to hear it louder as the sound bounced off the tiled walls.

“Is that a yes?”

“God, Jug, yes.”

She spun around to face him, taking him into a rough, passionate kiss and hooking her leg around him, the damp heat of her folds flush against his stomach.

“I’ve got a twist, though,” he said.

“Good. I like twists.”

“I know you do, you filthy girl.” He dropped down to his knees, just as insurance. Just to make sure she’d want to say yes. He traced a line with his tongue, gentle and light against the vertical line of her sex. She could have fallen, if he hadn’t held her up. “So here it is. Eye for an eye, my love. Not only will you stay silent while we do this. You’ll call someone up and you’ll stay on the line while you come for me.”

Jughead imagined that any other girl would have been reticent, or unwilling. But god, he had to have the magnificent overachieving goddess of a girlfriend who said, “How long do I stay on the line?”

“Until you unravel for me.”

“Meet me outside, then.”

She walked into her closet, pulled out a hidden drawer, and slid on the thigh-high black stockings he liked so much when he was going down on her. Ass in the air, she crawled to the top of her bed, grabbing her phone and dialling Kevin Keller’s number. “Hey, Kev, do you have a few minutes?”

Jughead narrowed his eyes at her. _You started without me,_ he mouthed. She only shrugged sweetly.

He looked her straight in the eye. _Down. Now._

“Uh, yeah, I’m just wondering… how did you structure your essay on Whitman?” She lay with her back on the bed, her legs wide apart in a spread eagle. “Like, how did you start?”

Jughead bent down and hooked her thighs over his shoulders. No taking chances here - she was going down. And quick. He nipped her with his mouth.

His tongue began their ministrations, gentle at first. She taught him that she liked it that way. Her leg twitched. He smiled against her thigh.

“Right, so did you--” Her breath hitched silently. _God_ , she was good. “Sorry, did you talk about the context of American transcendentalism first?”

Jughead wasn’t wasting any more time. He licked her clit, slowly at first before he built up a rhythm. Betty was hopelessly, soaking wet and thrusting up against his mouth, her body begging for more while her voice remained uncannily steady. He had no idea how long she’d last.

“Oh! Um. Uh-huh...” He looked up. She was gritting her teeth. “Interesting. Why did--um, why did you do it… that way?”

Jughead saved his best move for last. Moving his tongue down, he pressed it right into her, practically fucking her with his mouth.

Betty’s body was tensing. She looked down. _Fuck you,_ she mouthed. Jughead nearly laughed. She may have been absolutely wild in bed, but still a prude with language. When she swore, he knew he’d pushed her too far. She bit her lip. “Sorry, uh, I’m… I’m…”

Jughead kept his tongue in for a moment before pushing it up. Betty’s thighs clamped around his head. He heard a faint _hello, hello?_ on Kevin’s end and looked up to see the phone wrenched away from Betty’s ear.

She shook her head.

And he knew he’d won. 

“I’ll call you back, Kev,” she said hurriedly before hanging up and throwing her phone across the room. They heard a faint crack, but she was beyond caring, because in mere seconds she was gloriously taut, then writhing, below Jughead’s mouth, coming apart, coming again and again as bliss washed over her in cascades of white-hot pleasure.

And her voice filled every corner and crevice of the room. 

Groans and moans, screams of his name, of _more, oh god, more, Jug, fuck me,_ before he crawled up, plunged his cock into her, and fucked her senseless, bringing her to orgasm again.

He fell in right after, _la petite mort,_ the little death as the French called it, that abyss of perfect blankness. And this time, he let his voice loose, too, not caring who won or lost. 

They lay exhausted after, the sheets torn half off the bed, her legs straddling him on the window seat, her phone with a broken screen lying on the floor. 

“I guess I lost that, too,” she said, smirking. “We both did.”

He shrugged, and kissed her. “Far as I know, everyone wins here, Betty.”


End file.
